


two hundred kroners

by elithewho



Category: Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Nightmares, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d spent the last few nights holed up in the subway and sometime over those days he’d caught a bone-deep shiver. An ache that had gotten inside him and wouldn’t leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two hundred kroners

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Morgan because she wasn't feeling well and we're both trash for Oscar characters/Mary Sues.
> 
> Title is from "Milk Song" by The Mountain Goats.

Llewyn was in trouble. He was always in trouble these days but now it seemed especially dire. The hacking cough that he had hoped to just ignore until it went away was not going away. He’d spent the last few nights holed up in the subway and sometime over those days he’d caught a bone-deep shiver. An ache that had gotten inside him and wouldn’t leave.

So he’d have to find somewhere to stay that was warm. At least for the night. The wind was picking up, blowing the snow around, slicing right through his thin coat. His fingers were stiff and fumbling as he leafed through his address book, feeling more and more pathetic at every name he passed over. Jean had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to see a trace of him after last time and the Gorfeins were out of town. Every person he came across was pissed at him or not around. Typical, Llewyn was always pushing people away when he needed them most.

Well, there was always Chloe. Llewyn couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was reluctant to ask her for help. Maybe because she always welcomed him with a smile, like she was happy to see him. It felt wrong, misplaced. It was much more normal to crash at Jim and Jean’s and be greeted by Jean’s vitriol in the morning. He could cope with that. Chloe had a normalcy about her he found at odds with her easy acceptance of him. 

But, if he had no other choice. A violent coughing fit rattled him bad enough to sag against the phone booth as he contemplated. He half-expected her to tell him she was too busy, she couldn’t possibly let him stay. But her voice was chipper as ever as she told him it was no problem, he was always welcome.

“Are you OK?” came her voice from the other end, tinged now with concern.

“Fine,” Llewyn managed, after another hacking cough he couldn’t suppress.

In truth, the ride uptown to Chloe’s place felt like a harrowing journey. He was shaking badly by the time he hobbled up the stairs to her apartment and he found himself needing to lean against the doorframe in the two or three seconds it took her to answer.

“Llewyn!” She sounded breathless with concern.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he blurted out, sounding harsher than he meant to, really.

It was blissfully warm inside and smelled of home cooking. Chloe was wearing an apron trimmed in silly ruffles and her cheeks were pink from leaning over the stove. Llewyn felt very small and frail, shoulders hunched in his coat. He was still shivering.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch if that’s OK,” he mumbled, teeth chattering.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, and without much effort at all she was steering him into the bedroom.

Her place was small, cramped, cozy. Llewyn collapsed on the squishy mattress, his legs unable to keep him upright much longer.

“It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine,” he tried to reason with her. If he had just one good night’s sleep he’d be back on his feet in no time.

He certainly didn’t need to be fussed over the way Chloe was doing now, shucking off his shoes and damp socks. He hadn’t realized how cold and numb his toes had been. Her hands felt shockingly warm on his skin, almost painful. He told himself he didn’t need her help removing his clothes, but he couldn’t deny the truth of his shaking hands fumbling at the buttons and maybe he did need her help after all. Her bed was so deliciously warm and soft that he felt his eyelids getting heavy almost instantly. He was drifting off even as she tugged his trousers off, and that was a first. He was usually wide awake when that was happening.

It was funny enough that he felt like giggling but he was too exhausted and the sound that came out was only a stuttered gurgling. Distantly, he perceived her petting his hair, but his face was already pressed against her soft pillow as blankets were pulled up to his neck and then he was fast asleep.

 

His sleep was not especially sound. It felt like he was waking up every ten minutes, that he was both too hot and too cold at the same time. Both bathed in sweat and shivering uncontrollably. He felt Chloe’s hand on his forehead or cheek, blissfully cool now. There was a damp cloth at one point, pressed on his searing hot skin.

“You’re burning up,” she informed him and it sounded like she was speaking through a towel pressed over a telephone receiver. Llewyn could only mumble in response.

At one point he was sure she was pulling him into a sitting position and tilting his head back by the chin. He felt her hand on his sweltering cheek and her arm wrapped around his chest, pressing over the pounding of his heart.

“Can you swallow this?” she said gently, her voice very close to his ear. He felt hard pills being pushed against his lips. “It’s aspirin.”

It was a struggle, but he could do that. It was agony, being so weak. Chloe had her arm wrapped around his chest, keeping him upright. He took the pills in his mouth and felt the rim of a glass against his lip. The water was cold and delicious and he drank thirstily, swallowing the pills with it. He felt her lower him back into bed, wiping the sweat off his brow, climbing in next to him. Every other time she had pulled him close to hold him after sex, he had lain stiffly beside her. But he lay against her easily this time, head in her lap as she stroked his forehead, combing back the damp curls. Llewyn coughed weakly, feeling his chest rattle and he burrowed deeper in the cocoon of blankets, nestling his head on her thigh.

 

It was impossible to judge the passing of time, it could have been hours or years, he couldn’t tell. He could barely register consciousness from dreams. But the dreams were nightmares most of the time, and he’d struggle awake in a blind panic, too weak to do more than scream fitfully and thrash around. The river was hard and cold in his dream, breaking his body apart on impact, but not killing him. Ripping him to pieces and then swallowing his body parts up in cold sludge, icy and viscous like no real water he’d encountered. He’d wake struggling against the suffocating bedsheets and shouting hoarsely for help. It would only be seconds until he felt Chloe next to him, rubbing his hot neck and pulling him close. But it felt like hours, fighting against the cold.

 

When Llewyn finally woke with his mind feeling a little clearer, he couldn’t tell what time it was. The bedroom was filled with a soft grayish light that could have been early morning or midafternoon. He felt utterly drained and exhausted as if he hadn’t just been sleeping for who knows how long, but he wasn’t shivering or sticky with cold sweat, which was a nice change.

“You look better,” Chloe said from the door.

Llewyn rolled over, suddenly well enough to feel embarrassed.

“How long have I been here?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“A few days,” she said, shrugging. “Do you want something to eat?”

Llewyn had been about to say a quick thanks and then be on his way but he found getting into a sitting position to be immensely difficult and reluctantly conceded he’d have to stay after all. But to Chloe, he only nodded.

She brought him soup and it didn’t taste like the canned kind. It tasted almost unbearably good, rich and hearty beyond words, but it couldn’t possibly be that good. He must just be that hungry. He felt foolish with her sitting beside him spooning it to his mouth, but his arms shook when he tried to lift them. Chloe was wearing her ruffled apron again, her hair in a messy braid, face scrubbed clean. He felt a painful fondness for her and as a result found it difficult to even look at her face.

The soup was invigorating and Llewyn felt remarkably better after it was gone, but still weak and shaking like a newborn kitten. He had to lean against her like a drunkard when she led him into the bathroom for a hot bath. Which Llewyn would have turned down but he felt absolutely encrusted in grime, days of marinating in his own sweat and however long it had been before all that since he had bathed.

“I’m sure I can handle it from here,” he told her, gripping the sink for support because his knees were knocking together.

“Don’t be silly, Llewyn,” she said before briskly helping him take off his grimy shirt and boxers.

And he was too ill to feel anything but shamefully vulnerable at the prospect of being bathed by a beautiful woman. She helped him in and the water was hot and sudsy, sweet lavender scent rolling over him with the steam. It was the same scent he had smelled in Chloe’s hair on the nights when he’d slept over and endured her insistence on snuggling. It filled him with such an aching longing that he felt hollow and the alarming prick of tears in his eyes. He focused only on his hairy knees poking out of the soapy water and the feel of Chloe's fingers in his hair.

“I’m fine, really,” he mumbled, exposed, defenseless, unsettled.

Chloe ignored him, cupping water in her hands and dousing his hair, careful not to get any suds in his eyes. He smelled more lavender as she squeezed shampoo into her hands and started massaging it into his hair. Llewyn had thought he hated that smell. Before it had always been the smell of some old lady’s sitting room, but he was far from that now. Chloe was humming as she worked her fingers against his scalp. It was such a soothing combination that Llewyn felt his shoulders sag despite himself, sinking deeper into the tub, letting the water touch his chin.

Llewyn was nodding off by the time Chloe shook his shoulder and told him the water was getting cold. He sat up straighter, gasping a little. He had been so warm and comfortable and he blushed when he caught Chloe’s eye. She smiled at him with such kindness and gentleness that a lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

He needed help getting out of the tub and he probably could have handled drying himself on his own but Chloe was there with two fluffy towels, throwing one over his head to scrub his hair and make sure his ears were dry. Back in the bedroom, Chloe helped him into a ratty t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms too long in the leg for either of them. 

“I threw your clothes in the washer,” she offered without being asked and Llewyn was grateful. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd washed his clothes properly.

“Whose clothes are these?” he asked, trying not to notice how she climbed in bed next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“My ex-boyfriend’s,” she said and Llewyn couldn’t describe the feeling he felt. Somewhere between jealousy and awe that she had a life beyond their time together. Sometimes he was so damn self-centered.

“It’s fine,” she said, after seeing the look on his face. “He’s been gone awhile.”

Llewyn was so tired he just shut his eyes and let her envelope him in heavy blankets. The scent of lavender was strong. It felt like cool hands on his hot face.

 

When Llewyn woke again, he felt almost normal. He felt lethargic, but more so from lying in a warm, soft bed than from illness. He felt weak, but he hadn’t been on his feet in days. He felt ravenously hungry.

Chloe was gone. She must have gone to work. It made Llewyn wonder what she had done while he was delirious with fever, because he couldn’t remember her not being there. Thinking of her missing work because of him made him ache with guilt.

To distract himself, he wandered into her kitchen to find something to eat. There was leftover soup in the fridge and Llewyn heated it up on the stove, wondering if she made it for him or if she was already planning on making chicken soup. It made him feel strange. It was hearty and good, with big chunks of chicken and carrots and hardly any celery, which he didn’t like anyway. He ate two bowls greedily and then cleaned up the sink, feeling more useless than usual. Her apartment was already neat and tidy enough. Even the bedroom was well-ordered, despite the tangle of bedsheets. Everything smelled like lavender.

So he spent the next few hours plucking at his guitar on the couch, feeling lonely. His hand fell into the rhythm without any thought but he couldn’t bring himself to sing. It felt like if he opened his mouth he’d start bawling. 

Eventually he went back to bed, feeling worn out in a way he couldn’t describe. He had a dream about summer, or maybe it was just about being warm. He couldn’t recall the details, but it was gentle.

When he woke up, it was to the noise of Chloe shuffling around the bedroom.

“Sorry to wake you,” she whispered when he lifted his head.

Llewyn stretched and rolled over, shaking his head.

“It’s fine,” he said, yawning huge.

“How do you feel?” she asked, toeing off her shoes.

She was dressed like a Breton farm girl, with her hair in braids. Llewyn squinted at her. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s for work,” she said with a sheepish grin.

He’d known she was a hostess but hadn’t known it was at some tiresome themed restaurant.

“Did you, uh, get time off?” he found himself asking as she unpinned her braids and got into bed beside him.

“I found another girl to cover my shifts,” she said and Llewyn didn’t respond.

She was snuggling close to him, grabbing his hand to wrap it around her and Llewyn couldn’t help but let her. She smelled like coffee and cooking oil now, but that was fine. She was warm and soft and familiar and he found himself pressing against her backside eagerly. 

“You are feeling better then,” she said with a grin in her voice, pushing back against his hardening cock.

Llewyn only mumbled, swallowing a soft moan as he bucked his hips against her. Usually when they did this, they were both a little tipsy and Llewyn really needed a place to stay. Afterward he would always try to slip away unnoticed but Chloe always pulled him closer, snuck a hand up his t-shirt to rub his belly and nuzzle his neck. He’d always lie there stiffly, waiting for her to fall asleep so he could disappear. But he always found himself falling asleep too, relaxing into her touch and warm bed and drifting off into a pleasant, dreamless sleep that made him feel strangely guilty when he woke up to the dim morning light and finally made his escape. He felt like a fraud. Like he didn’t belong there.

It felt more natural now. She turned to face him and he helped her untie the laces on her bodice before pulling off the flouncy blouse, revealing her modern bra underneath. He kissed her breasts, hearing her breathing hitch as he pressed his erection against her thigh. She smelled like flowers underneath her clothes and he groaned as she tugged on his unkempt hair.

They rolled over and Llewyn sighed deeply as she settled heavily on his lap. It was easy to just let her take the lead, push up his t-shirt and run her fingers down the light hair on his chest. He helped her tug the shirt over his head and throw it aside as she pushed down the waistband of the flannel pajama bottoms to fondle him. He just let himself feel her, her soft hands and gentle breathing growing more ragged as she pulled both their clothes off. 

It was sweet, sweeter than Llewyn had really allowed himself to experience with anyone. It was slow, but tense, and Llewyn felt sweat dampen his hair into unruly curls as she rode him. Llewyn held her hips tightly, fingers shaking as he groaned. He wanted to be closer to her than it was possible to be. He wanted to crawl inside her and fall asleep.

When she came, trembling, above him, he rocked his hips, teeth clenching together in desperation. Chloe slumped over, laying her forehead on his. It was so close, so intimate. Before any of this, Llewyn would have turned away, shifted into a different position. Instead he felt her breath on his face and sucked in a sharp breath as his orgasm hit him with dizzying intensity. He let her touch the sides of his face, drawing him close in a breathless kiss as he grunted and shuddered. He felt drained afterward, but pleasantly so, not the same bone-deep hollowness that he had somehow gotten used to.

Chloe rolled over, warm and slightly damp, and lay down behind him. Llewyn didn’t shrug away when she curled an arm over his waist and pulled him close. It felt nice, she was soft and lovely and he could feel her heartbeat against his back. Her breath tickled his neck but it didn’t bother him. His eyelids felt heavy again and it was absurd, after how much he had already slept, but it was so easy to drift off to sleep with Chloe beside him, warm and real and tangible.

He had no dreams that night.


End file.
